Dark Redeption
by IndigoStarshine
Summary: What if the prophecy about 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' was never heard by Voldemort? What consequences would that have on the future of the Wizarding World? A very different Harry lives in a totalitarian regime segregated according to how pure your blood is and how politically powerful you are. Full Summary inside. DarkHarry.
1. Birthday

_Disclaimer: I'm obviously not talented enough to have written the real Harry Potter._

Full Summary: What if the prophecy about 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' was never heard by Voldemort? What consequences would that have on the future of the Wizarding World? A very different Harry lives in a totalitarian regime segregated according to how pure your blood is and how politically powerful you are. As someone deemed inferior, Harry has been growing up willing to do anything to survive in his harsh environment. Although his aspirations to rise in societal rank seem to be heavily dependent on a future as a Death Eater, personal conscience and fate seem to have other plans for him. DarkHarry.

_March 1980_

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

Severus had been staring at the buffy haired, eccentric woman sitting across from them at the Hog's Head. Once the woman had come out of her trance, she looked around as if she obviously had no idea about what had just happened. Severus knew enough to know that this was typical of seers; they rarely if ever had any kind of control over what talent they had, if any.

The only other person to hear the prophecy was Albus Dumbledore. Neither of them had seen eye to eye before. The old man's blue eyes that had been filled with hope and wisdom were now hollow with anticipated defeat. The war was not going to end well. They both knew that.

The woman left the bar and headed into the night, still fuming at Albus' reluctance to employ her - leaving both Albus and Severus alone.

Severus was the first to speak, "You better thank your lucky stars, Dumbledore. Any other Death Eater would bite at the opportunity."

"Well, I personally don't see why you wouldn't," Albus said scornfully, remembering what the boy was like at school.

"I must tell you," Severus shook his head, "That people can change, Albus."

'_How true, this is good. Besides, I presume prophecies are only true if they are acted upon.'_ Dumbledore thought with a rising smile - An expression that had not graced his face in a long time. He raised an empty firewhiskey glass in respect to Severus, something he thought he would never do.

_31st July 1996_

Today was Harry's sixteenth birthday. Therefore, he decided to treat himself with a few chocolate frogs as well as a stack of books he had managed to 'borrow' from different places. Not that his unlawful birth to a mudblood mother sixteen years ago was a worthy reason to celebrate, but it was a good excuse to just relax on his bed to read books and eat food that was normally forbidden to him.

Harry Evans had dark hair that refused to be tamed and his choice of clothes was just as rebellious. Behind black rimmed glasses were sharp green eyes as cold as they were cunning. He hated his job as a menial factory worker for Honeydukes confectionary to no end but had no other choice. On the days he did not work, he attended magic classes to gain further skills but knew that he most probably wasn't going to get anywhere in life. At night he also had another job as a Death Eater Youth keeping muggles in line. When he wasn't working or in class, he lived in a shoddy housing complex that was designed to accommodate the lowlifes of magical society.

The room he was staying in was barely big enough to fit a single mattress and a tiny wardrobe filled with his clothes. It was dusty and had the tiniest window towards the ceiling that was too high to see out of unless he jumped on his bed. His bed was the kind that almost no amount of charms could repel mould off and creaked every time he moved in it. The walls were nothing but grey decrepit bricks that gave his barely over two meter wide room a greater claustrophobic effect. He was not even allowed Quidditch posters to make the room more cheerful. A pureblood his own age would have complained to the ends of the earth, but for Harry the room was more than he could have ever hoped to have. He and his sister lived here together - that was all that mattered.

The book he was reading was a Hogwarts textbook, A _Revised History of Magic grade 5_ by Phoebus Nott. Although the book looked rather boring, he was determined to learn beyond the bare essentials that were taught to him by the Riddle School for Lower Half-Bloods. Anything that was going to further his position in life was good. Also motivating him to read was the fact that this book was deemed worthy enough to educate students with privilege of going to Hogwarts. It made him feel rich, even if for just a few moments.

'_It was in February 1982 that the glorious Dark Lord had seized control of the remaining sections of the former Ministry of Magic. This was the result of very careful strategic planning on the behalf of the Dark Lord himself as well as several loyal Death Eaters such as Lucius Malfoy and Bartemius Crouch Jr. Those working at the former Ministry of Magic who were loyal to the greater good worked together to assure that control of Wizarding society was not left under the rule of a mediocre bureaucracy whose chief objectives included undermining Wizarding Society's traditional purity… On 15 March 1982, it was made official that the former Ministry of Magic was disbanded and that Wizarding Society was now under the guidance of the Dark Lord with Lucius Malfoy in charge of general operations. It was a day of great rejoice when Wizarding society had finally come under worthy leadership and therefore, 15 March was later announced as Liberation Day.'_

Harry rolled his eyes, he had heard the tale of Liberation Day every March for the last four years or so. He had heard the same message at least a thousand times before. The propaganda was too excessively fervid, even for him. He skipped a couple of pages, hoping it would become more interesting.

'_Although the Dark Lord's rise to national leadership had been overwhelmingly successful and approved by the public, there remained several problems. A chief one was the decline in the pure Wizarding population and that not all of those who were pureblood or of reasonable purity agreed with the Dark Lord's wisdom. For this, it was decreed that pureblood families must have a minimum of five children and that such dissidents would be magically re-educated. Also of concern was the question of what should be done about true undesirables such as muggles and mudbloods, especially mudbloods who have polluted our society through breeding with those of higher purity. There are still a great deal many of them polluting our nation to this day. Although many are allowed to live as servants and inferior citizens under supervision for practical reasons, the Dark Lord decreed the Eventual Solution for these people at a gradual but steady rate…'_

Harry could no longer read. Even though over six years had passed since she was gone, Harry could not help but think of his mother who had two children to men who were definitely above her station. He had a good idea about what _'the Eventual Solution'_ included. He suppressed a slight surge of emotion. He cast 'evanesco' on the book to make it vanish. He didn't want to see it ever again. He supposed that Hermione wouldn't want to read it either. He tried another book about Magical Theory. It was much more interesting.

Suddenly, there was loud banging on his door.

"Who is it?" Harry called. He expected it to be Hermione with his clean laundry but she rarely knocked very hard.

"It's Josie! Open up Harry, it's an emergency!"

"Harry," Hermione called, "Please open up for us."

"We need your help!" Josie shouted, "We can't do this without you."

He sprung up and got to the door. He was concerned by sister's and Hermione's tone.

He opened it up to see three girls. Two he recognised but the third was a small girl, she couldn't have been older than eight. Her brown dress was tattered and dirty, there were also a few blood stains and her hair had been completely shaved off. She looked like a pitiful creature, so emaciated she could pass as a house elf with chopped ears.

"Josie, who is this?" He asked.

"Harry, I found her hiding in the alleyway when I was coming back after school. She told me that she managed to escape the Labour Camp. She's a poor Mudblood who was taken from her parents. I looked around to see some Death Eaters searching for her. She looked so scared. I _had_ to save her. We need you to help us save her."

Josie was the only family he had in this world that he loved and loved him in return. He had cared for her since their mother was taken away. Her dark eyes reflected compassion. She was too sweet; it was going to get them killed someday. She might only have been twelve but she had to learn some common sense. She should have left that little girl to die and assure their own survival. The world was harsh and nobody could change that.

"Josephine! How could you have been so _unbelievably _stupid? You are going to get us in serious trouble." He whispered furiously. He could have easily hit her there and then. "We have to put her back on the street or I'll hand her in."

The small girl started to cry. Hermione put her arm around her shoulders.

"No!" Hermione interjected, "She's staying with us. I won't allow her to be killed."

"She's just a filthy mudblood -"

"I'm a filthy mudblood too. Unless you've forgotten." Hermione retorted.

Josie started to become frantic, "Well, we have to do something! I think some Death Eaters are coming. They might have seen me take her. You're the only one that can talk to them."

"The filth can't say here. We don't have enough food for everyone in this apartment, let alone someone else. Besides, how are we going to hide her from everyone else here?"

"We'll find a way." Josie told him, she was still defiant. Hermione nodded.

Harry turned to the young girl, "Well scum, do you have a fucking name?"

"- Don't be so rude!" Hermione interjected again. There were times that she seemed to forget that he was a Death Eater Youth member and that she was nothing but a mudblood.

Between sobs, Harry thought he heard her say, "Celeste."

The girl's eyebrows were brown. He tried not to look into her eyes - that would make him feel uncomfortable. Never-the-less, there was some inner voice saying that he couldn't turn her in.

They could hear knocking at the front door downstairs. It could be Death Eaters so they had to answer quickly unless they wanted to be raided. They were also the only people home – Dean and everyone else had gone to work.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry muttered, he could feel his heart thud. He knew what happened to people caught hiding filthy mudbloods.

He turned to his wardrobe and dug through it frantically; searching for something he had not used in a long time, his cloak. The silky, silvery invisibility cloak would hide her. He threw it over her. The small girl took a minute to admire the beautiful pattern on its surface. He doubted she had seen anything so elegant in her short, unfortunate life. Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion – she was surprised that he owned something that looked so valuable. When she put it on, he couldn't see or hear her. It was if there was a miracle in which she never came here in the first place.

"Where did you manage to nick that?" Hermione said suspiciously.

"I didn't steal it, believe it or not. It belonged to my sperm donor once upon a time."

"Harry inherited it from his father before he was even born." Josie felt the need to add, for the other girls' sake.

"Quick," Harry whispered, "Hide under this until its safe. I'll get the door."

He bolted down the stairs to get the door. It was a good thing that he did, as there were three of his Death Eater Youth division standing in front of him - Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Evans, I hope you are not busy." Malfoy smirked, "Yaxley can't do it today. Apparently he's got a bit of a tummy bug."

Malfoy had actually cast crucio on Yaxley the other day for no reason other than he wanted to see the thirteen year old suffer in pain. The boy would be ill for weeks. Harry disliked most other people but if it was anybody that Harry genuinely hated it was Malfoy. Even he found Malfoy repulsive.

"That's not my problem. Anyway, I think I told you that I was busy today." Harry retorted. Although, he knew it was futile to argue with someone as powerful as Malfoy.

"Is there something going on upstairs?" Malfoy said with eagerness.

"No, unless you count my sister and her friend hanging out after school as something going on."

"Bullshit, your stupid little sister would never have any friends."

Crabbe and Goyle began to smirk as well. Harry rolled his eyes. Harry was grateful that he had considerable skill in occlumency. The skill had saved his life on numerous occasions. He could sense Malfoy trying to search his mind. Malfoy might not be particularly clever but he was extensively tutored.

'_Well, how you have friends is a complete mystery,'_ he thought bitterly, although he said nothing. Besides, retorting would only result in two scenarios: he being beaten by the trio or them raiding their house. Besides, Harry genuinely didn't care about the opinions of a spoilt brat pureblood boy who had always got his own way.

"Isn't it a shame that you live in this shithole? I mean, you only have that ugly mudblood servant to fuck." Malfoy continued, as if Harry paying attention.

Harry raised his eyebrows and ran back upstairs to put on his uniform. Hermione looked terrified, she obviously had heard Malfoy. Josie and the little girl were almost hiding behind her. He knew Josie was terrified of Malfoy; the blond's infamy spread far beyond his Death Eater Youth division.

"Don't do _anything_ out of the ordinary," Harry whispered frantically as he redressed, "Clean her up and get out some old rags for her to sleep on in the basement. She can be another servant. Just make sure that nobody else in the house sees her. Now don't just stand there in my doorway like an idiot. Go. Same goes for you too, Josie."

"We know, Harry," Hermione seethed, "We're not idiots. She can sleep on the spare mattress."

Neither girl was in the position to argue further with him or take offense to his brash attitude. They looked relieved, surprised almost.

"Harry," Hermione whispered as he was about to leave, "Thanks very much."

A/N: A brief structure of Wizarding Society in Voldemort's power (from highest to lowest obviously):

**Elite Purebloods and high society Death Eaters (~2%)**. Rule the rest of society. Highest in terms of money, power and influence. Enough said.

**General Purebloods (~8%).** Are pureblood but are sometimes former rebels/blood traitors before "magical re-education". Still share in preferential treatment. Are generally not Death Eaters. Cannot move down in rank.

**Higher Half-bloods (~15%).** Usually have a high percentage of magical heritage (~75% or over) but are not considered pureblood. Or are originally middle or lower half-bloods who have enough talent, influence and money to move up societal ranks or have Death Eater status. Children of this group are allowed to attend Hogwarts.

**Middle Half-bloods (~50%). **Most of the Wizarding population fall under this category. Generally have a lower percent of magical heritage than higher half-bloods (~50%) but can include lower half bloods who have improved their societal rank (and higher half-bloods that have lost theirs). Also less in terms of money, power and influence. Children who show strong talent may have to opportunity to attend Hogwarts but not usually the case. Generally attend segregated schools but with adequate education.

**Lower Half-bloods (hard to estimate, ~15%).** Have restrictions enforced upon them such as mandatory poorer living conditions and limited career opportunities (not allowed Ministry Careers). Consist of people with lower percent of magical heritage or uncertain heritage, chidren born to Muggle-born women shortly before or during the Dark Lord's reign and/or former half-blood rebels and their children. Half-breeds and werewolves also included. Inferior magical education (if allowed to be educated in magic at all) that is tailored towards menial jobs. Individuals can have elevated status and are able to join the Death Eater Youth if display enough talent and intelligence. Harry and Josephine Evans belong to this category.

**Mudbloods and Squibs (harder to estimate, **~**10% still alive).** Very poor living conditions and even further restrictions. Open persecution. Usually have very menial jobs if they are lucky. Otherwise can be sent to labour camps. Can never move up in societal rank. Generally removed from their parents at a young age and are not allowed to have children themselves. They can be lucky enough to live a longer life if they obey laws. No formal magical education. Not allowed wands.

Whether you love it or hate it - reviews, follows and favourites are always welcome.


	2. 4 Privet Drive

_A/N: Thanks for the support so far. I will explain James Potter. More reviews would be helpful._

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><p>Harry joined Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in taking a portkey to the fairy ring garden outside headquarters, the normal meeting place for their group. The portkey, as usual, was an absurd piece of muggle rubbish - a broken razor.<p>

"We have muggles to torment near Little Whinging," Malfoy informed them, "Once the whole crew arrives we can get going."

Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy's cheerful tone. He was too busy trying to avoid being treaded on by Crabbe or Goyle. They were over a head taller than him, brutal and much stockier. However, Harry was comforted by the fact that although they were physically intimidating, they were useless at magic and thick as rocks.

In the fairy ring stood what Harry presumed would be the rest of squad for the night; Ginny Weasley, Valentine Black and Anthony Goldstein.

Even in the dimness of Twilight, he could tell that Ginny was giving him her usual contemptuous glare. Ginny Weasley was the only pureblood woman he had ever met and she was anything but the sweet, gentle, innocent virgin that pureblooded girls were portrayed in the propaganda - especially the virgin part, he knew that from firsthand experience.

"Why did you bring the half-blood swine?" she called to Malfoy, "I thought Yaxley was coming tonight."

"Too bad, he's sick," Crabbe replied, it was rare to hear him speak.

"Yeah, so unfortunate." Malfoy smirked, "Anyway, we knew how much you like Evans. So we brought him instead."

Ginny did not reply but pursed her lips and frowned.

"Evans," Black called with raised eyebrows, "Weren't you supposed to be taking a night off?"

"Not anymore." He replied. Black also frowned.

Black liked him just as much as Ginny did but was much more hesitant to be rude, even though the dark haired and handsome pureblooded fourteen year old could easily get away with it. Ginny had abhorred him since she had returned from recently becoming a teenage mother, which had led to shame on her family. Black's dislike stemmed from his friend Patrick Potter being named as the father of Ginny's child.

Harry had conspired with Ginny to lie and tamper with Potter's memory, which led to Potter being banned from the Death Eater Youth and forced to spend the last summer forced to cleaning boots by hand as punishment. Not to mention all of the bullying that would be waiting for Potter at Hogwarts. Harry didn't care about what happened to a pureblooded prince - if he had been named, Josie and he would have been sentenced to a labour camp. Harry chose Potter due to their similar looks. Never-the-less, Black hated them both for their dishonesty.

"Should we get started then?" Malfoy clasped his hands.

"No fuckwit, we need to wait until we get approval from headquarters. Remember last time?" Ginny sneered; she had the privilege of being the only person able to backchat with Malfoy. Despite everything, she was still their effectual leader even if Malfoy was the one who reported to headquarters.

"Well," Malfoy retorted, "if your body was as pure as your blood is, then you wouldn't have had any problem with waiting."

Nobody laughed. Malfoy knew that from the moment the words escaped his mouth that he had made a cowardly mistake. Harry was increasingly curious over whether if their animosity towards each other was purely out of Malfoy's incompetence and unpleasant personality or something deeper. Perhaps jealously that she had no interest in him.

Ginny twirled a strand of red hair behind her ear and brought out her wand. Malfoy was going to get it. With a flash of purple light from Ginny's wand bats began to sprout out of Malfoy's nose and attack him. Malfoy shrieked and shouted while everyone else laughed. Harry enjoyed a secret smile; he always enjoyed seeing Ginny cast her famous Bat-Bogey Hex even though he had once been a previous recipient of it.

Harry began to feel a slight stinging sensation from his badge. The rest of the group stopped squabbling to pay attention. With a wave of her wand, Ginny summoned seven brooms for each one of them. They all knew what to do.

The inscription 'Magic is Might' on the sleeves of the black and grey Death Eater Youth uniform served as a reminder to all that prestige could be earned. There was a green badge on the side of the uniform – it was the Dark Mark. Not a real one of course, only members of the Dark Lord's inner circle were entitled to those. However, it did allow for a burning sensation to signal them into certain actions. The uniform's style was simple but more than powerful enough to strike pure fear into any opposition. Muggles and mudbloods cowered before it while dissidents quivered. It gave an air of empowerment. To Harry it meant nothing more than a way to improve his standing in life.

"Psst," Anthony called to him as they were about to mount their brooms, "I got you a present. I hope you've had a happy birthday so far today. I convinced my aunt to buy it."

Anthony brought out a wrapped CD, the round shiny disks that muggles, when put in a stereo, used to play music. Harry knew it would be something on the lines of Oasis, The Cranberries, Red Hot Chilli Peppers or Radiohead. Although it was deemed to be shameful, Harry enjoyed muggle music as it was better than the cheesy, cheap ministry approved trash. Anthony was the only person outside of his household who knew that. He and Anthony had been friends for a long time, ever since they had both attended Riddle school together. Anthony was slightly luckier than Harry and Josie in that he had a muggle aunt who was kind enough to look after him.

"Thanks so much, Anthony!" He whispered back with glee and pocketed it in the inside sleave of his uniform.

Ginny eyed them with suspicion from up above on her broom, "Will you lover boys get a move on?"

* * *

><p>Harry was always happier to be in the air. He was, of course, a natural flyer. Many people he knew likened him to James Potter, Britain's champion seeker who successfully won the Qudditch world cup six years in a row. James Potter was also a highly respected official for the ministry and a pureblood from quite a wealthy family. Patrick Potter was one of his children. Harry would have liked to think that they were possibly related but he knew that was only wishful thinking.<p>

As per usual, they would cast curses that went down to the muggles below. He could see flashes of light came down and could faintly hear bursts of destruction as the curses destroyed buildings, caused injuries or even possibly ended muggle lives. At this height, he was frozen from the violent winds and could barely feel his arms. Harry's numbness was so strong he could scarcely move to cast spells. He could also hear the muggle sirens begin to blare. Within moments, all of Little Whinging's lights had gone off – a typical tactic that muggles used to slow their efforts. Through fogging glasses, he could see Ginny faintly signal for them to go lower. They formed in their usual ring formation in the air around Ginny and waited for more instructions.

"Headquarters has given an important mission tonight. There has been a new confirmed report of mudblood child living in Little Whinging. Evans can see to that. Black and Goldstein – you can both go with him. The rest of us can do patrol."

She threw a roll of parchment at Harry in the air - he caught it in one hand and had a quick read. The muggles in question lived in 4 Privet Drive. The address rang a bell for Harry; the muggles that had previously lived in that house had been executed five months ago for being key members of an anti-wizard hate group call "Unite Against Freaks". They were the infamous Dursley family; it was all over the Daily Prophet. Ironically, the wife had a sister who was apparently a mudblood. Harry remembered that his mother had told him that she had a sister who apparently lived in Little Whinging but she told him nothing else. Now there was another incident in that house, surprising seeming that there was no wizard population in Little Whinging and occurrences of mudblood children were extremely rare in this region. The muggles here had a strong anti-wizard sentiment. But these were apparently new people that had come from out of town.

"Why does Harry always get to lead the special missions?" Malfoy replied with a whine.

"Because, unlike you, I can trust Harry enough not to be such an idiot," Ginny rolled her eyes, "Just remember to meet us back at the park at nine thirty."

Harry nodded and beckoned for Black and Anthony to come with him.

* * *

><p>Unlike the other muggle houses on Privet Drive, number 4 was in a state of disarray. The lawn looked as though it had not been mowed in a few months and weeds had grown to a point where they were almost up to Harry's knees. Nobody was collecting their mail, newspapers or even deliveries of milk either. Aluminium cans, shards of glass and bags filled with rubbish were shrewn across the front yard. The smell was off-putting.<p>

"Wow, I didn't know muggles were _this_ disgusting." Black replied with a frown, "If their neighbours can keep clean, why can't they?"

There was no reply when Anthony knocked on their door, so Harry blasted their door open. The inside of their house was cleaner, if not slightly better than the outside, but still neglected. A man and woman were sitting in the living room. Perhaps they had been waiting for them. The woman began to wail, her body was shaking.

"Our son is gone!" The man bellowed.

"So," Harry re-unravelled the scroll of parchment to read, "You are Mr and Mrs Jones of 4 Privet Drive?"

Harry let the scroll and quill float beside him mid-air, his quill would be writing a transcript of everything Harry had asked them as well as their replies. Muggles feared displays of magic, no matter how flippant or menial.

"Yes. Yes, we are." The man replied, shaking. Even without legilimency, he knew that this would be a lie. Families on the run with mudblood children often changed aliases often and frequently.

"And you have one child, Timothy, who is eight years old and goes to the local school?"

"We use to. He's not here anymore, I've told you that." The man whimpered in a croaky voice.

"Are you sure? You can't take back what you have said. "

The man began to pant, he was panicking. The wife began to wail some more, the woman buried her face into her hands leaving her tattered long blonde hair to conceal her pain. They were powerless against the Death Eater Youth. They knew that this would be the end.

"Harry, these people are mentally unwell." Anthony said, hoping that Harry would go easier on them.

"I know," Harry replied lightly before continuing to interrogate, "Where is your son, Timothy?"

The man's fearful blue eyes revealed more than Harry had wished for. Young Timothy was here -lying six feet under in the backyard. Like many muggle parents, when their son started to display signs of magic they were afraid. They loved their son deeply and tried their best to protect him over the years, but their attempts at applying for asylum overseas had failed and it had come to a point where they had nowhere else to run. They knew that their nosy neighbours had reported their son yesterday afternoon after they saw the boy make a branch levitate while playing in the garden. They also knew what would happen when their son would be taken away, never to be seen or heard of again. Although what they had done was merciful, in their eyes at least, Harry couldn't help but feel disgust.

"Goldstein and Black," Harry ordered, "Find some gasoline and other flammables. Then spread it around the house. There should be some stuff in the garage."

"What?" Black gasped, "What are we doing?"

"Don't argue with me and just do what I fucking say."

Anthony and Black looked at him with grave faces. It was an order that was brutal and unusual. Normally Harry would have ordered them to ransack the house, as it was routine for them to do so, but Harry knew that even if these people actually owned anything of value, he would have still granted them that final respect. Harry had made a harsh decision; it was normally policy for the group leader to have them sent to a labour camp, although anyone could decide on that happens to muggle prisoners there and then.

Harry waited for the boys to leave the room before continuing.

"I know you killed your son. He's buried in the backyard. I'm giving you both the same brutality you showed him."

The woman looked up at him, she understood. She wouldn't have to live with what she had done to her own boy for much longer. For whatever reason, they did not have the courage to end their own lives themselves so they were just staying here waiting for Death Eaters to find them.

The woman whispered hysterically, "I loved you so much, so much. Please forgive us Timothy."

The man burst into tears and began to wail in sadness, "We've sacrificed so much for him. He was our only child and we killed him. We don't have anything to live for anymore."

Harry pulled the quill away from the parchment and placed them both into his pocket. He didn't want what he would say next to be recorded.

"I understand."

Harry turned to meet the man's face for the final time. Harry's own emotions had begun to surface from the depths. The man gave him a look of compassion. If Harry expected anyone to show him some sympathy, the last person he would have expected it from was a muggle that was about to be executed on spot. The man had judged Harry to be a very troubled boy.

Harry refused to reply but instead watched as the other boys spread anything flammable that they could find around the house from gasoline to alcohol to methylated spirits to the woman's perfume. The couple took their last moments to pray together. An act Harry saw as futile. There was no god; not for him, not for them and definitely not for their dead son.

Harry ordered Black and Anthony outside who all sombrely did what he said without a word. The couple stayed inside. Before they left, Harry let a small spark from his wand fly into the window of the house. There was a massive fireball of an explosion, shattering the windows and doors. They walked away as the fire began to destroy everything the flames touched in the house, including the couple. Harry hoped that they died in the initial explosion.

This way, the family would be able to leave this Earth and all of its trouble without a trace. They would both burn away forevermore. Harry doubted that anyone would miss them or even be alerted as their demise. People like them moved so often and changed names so many times that they had lost who they really were. In the process of trying to protect their son, they would have had to estrange themselves from any family and friends they would have had. They would be no judgement over what they had done and nobody to mourn them. Everything they were and everything they had would only be turned to smoke.

When they had returned to meet the group, they had found that nothing out of the ordinary had happened for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle; other than more of their usual acts of brutality. Ginny had been complaining that Goyle had made a muggle woman's pet dog explode into bits which made a mess everywhere. It was a disgusting trick Goyle's father had taught him while muggle hunting.

"So, did you arrest the couple or not?" Ginny inquired, "Didn't you arrest them and retrieved their mudblood spawn?"

Harry pointed towards the rising trail of smoke in the distance. Ginny's mouth contorted to form an 'o' shape. The other boys said nothing.

"It turns out they killed their son as soon as they knew he had been reported. I showed them the same mercy."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle could torture, rape, murder, destroy and do other despicable acts all they wanted but it wouldn't compare to what Harry had decided to do tonight. What Harry did was abnormal. It troubled Ginny as much as it did Black and Goldstein.

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><p>When Harry had made it home, he was shocked to see that the room was a mess with bits of broken and overturned furniture around the room.<p>

"Harry!" Josie called to him from upstairs, she was worried.

He ran up the stairs as fast as he could. He hoped the mudblood girl hadn't caused any trouble for them so far.

"What's happened?"

Standing upstairs was a congregation of Josie, the small girl, Hermione, Dean and Lupin cramped into the narrow hall. The small girl's hand was a series of six numbers, all of which glistened with blood that was running down her emaciated arm. Harry wondered how long the child had survived the brutal conditions of the Labour camp. Hermione had suffered almost two years before being allowed to become a servant but she was lucky, most prisoners died a slow and painful death. Not to mention they were usually horrifically tortured.

"Harry, Celeste was screaming and crying in pain. Hermione was quick enough summoned Lupin. He's been a big help." Josie explained.

"They've cast a very complex version of a Protean Charm on their prisoners so that if a prisoner is outside of the camp grounds by sundown their identification number begins to rupture and bleed causing severe pain." Lupin began to explain, "Also, the guards were alerted via this charm. I've managed to create a diversion so that the spell's signal is now being detected a hundred yards away so that any more guards get a good run for their money. I'm hoping that my charm was strong enough to reverse the effect."

Harry was beginning to panic, "What do you mean 'anymore'? Are they going to come here? Have some already come."

"So far we had a couple of visitors but your good friend Dean and I have successfully defeated them. They seem to be getting dumber every year, or maybe I'm just getting more successful at defeating them with practice. I've modified their memories and banished them back to the camp thinking that they had successfully killed all of the assailants involved including little Celeste."

Ever since the werewolf Remus Lupin had moved into the apartment next door to them, he seemed to want to take on the role of caretaker for both Josie and himself. Apparently he had known their mother and wanted to be like a second father to both of them. Josie, who was friendly and good natured, accepted the support. He on the other hand did not; he had already been responsible for looking after Josie and himself for a few years now and hated the attempts at intrusion. This included the secret annex he created that connected both of their living quarters. Never-the-less, the man was clever at spells and had been good at teaching Josie and Hermione magic.

Harry was not reassured, "Are you sure? We can leave tonight; we don't have much to pack."

"Harry relax," Lupin seemed sure of himself, "I've been doing this stuff to Death Eaters long before you were born. Now just breathe in and out. Relax, it'll all be fine."

"Harry," Hermione interjected seeming concerned, "You smell of gasoline and ash. What the heck did you get up to tonight?"

"I'm really not in the mood to talk about it." He replied in a deflated tone. He turned to Dean, "If you ever tell anyone about this…"

"- Harry, I'm not going to tell anyone. Besides, I've already stunned two prison guard Death Eaters tonight. I'm feeling mighty proud of myself."

His relationship with Dean was a one where there was an unwritten and unspoken rule to permanently steer clear of each other. Dean was a young lower half-blood prostitute and an upcoming pimp. Harry was a hardened Death Eater Youth. Harry had, long ago, chosen to ignore Dean bringing home his usual variety of clients, often wizards or witches of higher blood purity, although his actions were clearly a reason to arrest. They found each other's activities despicable. The only reason he didn't report Dean was that he didn't want his sister or Hermione to think he was overly devoted to the Death Eater cause.

"Thanks for the bread with jam and butter, Hermione. It's always a pleasure." Lupin said with his usual inappropriate cheerfulness, with a swift flick of his wand Harry could hear furniture in the lounge room being fixed downstairs behind them, "But I will have to be going. If anything happens during the night or you just want to chat, just come get me through the secret annex. Take care. Harry, can I talk to you?"

"Can it wait tomorrow? I've had a _really_ big day and I really want to go to bed, it's late."

"Alright. Just remember to take good care of the girls. Especially little Celeste, she's been through a lot. You too, Dean."

After Lupin had entered back into his own apartment through his annex, Harry had a long shower and went straight to bed. Harry was eager to get rid of the smell of burnt gasoline and sweat. He couldn't have been bothered to join Dean and the women of the house to go downstairs and talk for the rest of the night. They obviously were not particularly troubled by the day's events. He had troubled sleep; images of a famished mudblood girl, a flaming house, a pair of bereaved muggle parents and their murdered son haunted his unconscious mind.

* * *

><p>Harry did not know anything his real father, not even his name. The only evidence of the man's existence was of the inherited invisibility cloak that Harry owned. Apparently his father inherited the cloak, suggesting that the man was perhaps from an affluent pureblood family. Harry had experiences regarding other invisibility cloaks but none were like this. This one never faded and from experience, it could resist revealing charms of all sorts.<p>

Harry remembered that his mother previously had photos of him but that was before she had burnt them. Harry remembered pictures of a smiling handsome man who he greatly resembled– only his eyes were warm and mischievous rather than calculating and cold like Harry's. The only thing his mother told him was that the man disappeared a few months before Harry was born. She did not know whether he left them for their own good, as being caught together would result in her and an unborn Harry's death, or whether he was caught. In that case his mind would have been obliviated beyond recognition or he was slaughtered. If he was alive, he would not remember his mother or that he had an unborn son who was now a lowlife teenager. Harry knew that leaving his mother with a valuable family heirloom for protection was evidence that his father loved her or at least he used to.

A man that Harry did recognise as a father figure was his stepfather, although the man had never been allowed to marry his mother. Severus was a dark, brooding man who kind enough to take his mother in and protect her. His stepfather was also Josie's father and had helped in Harry's upbringing. He taught Harry and Josie magic in secret, knowing that they would most likely never have to opportunity to go to Hogwarts to get a decent magical education. However, they also attended a muggle school as a cover from authorities but never stayed long enough in one town to really make good friends.

His life changed when Death Eaters came to remove him and Josie. He could remember his mother's screaming and crying as she was dragged away from them by her hair. He was thirteen at the time and they were both sent to a foster care home. It haunted his dreams sometimes, seeing his mother in such pain. They tortured her violently. It was his last memory of her and he hated thinking about it because it made him sick. Their Death Eater Youth handbook told them that muggles and mudblood were incapable of feeling real emotions, that they were inferior human beings. Harry had once wished that his mother had no ability to feel suffering but unlike many of the Death Eater Youth, he _could not_ lie to himself.


End file.
